I am the hand, the feather, the trunk

At times, one could imagine that he now possessed different senses and instincts from ours. Certainly, his constant contact with the bark of trees, his gaze fixed on the movement of feathers, fur, scales, the array of colors this world presents, and then the green current that circulates like otherworldly blood in the veins of the leaves: these confines of the wild into which he had penetrated so deeply could now shape his soul.
(Italo Calvino, The Baron in the Trees)

Cosimo has chosen to spend his life in the trees. He doesn't fall because he doesn't want to fall, he doesn't descend because he doesn't want to descend. Suspended between earth and sky, in an elastic balance of opposing tensions, the desire to coexist with the world below remains entangled in the leaves and sways with the north wind.

Texts: Italo Calvino, from The Baron in the Trees . Mariangela Gualtieri, from Central Fire .
Music: René Aubry, Acid Rain. Brambles, To Speak Of Solitude.
Photography: Nikoline Schoch